


Somebody Get Me a Doctor

by Deansimpallagrl, WuvWinchesterHugs



Series: Because You Let Me Pick the Music [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester Takes Care of Sam Winchester, M/M, Married Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Sick Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2019-12-30 07:59:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18311465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deansimpallagrl/pseuds/Deansimpallagrl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WuvWinchesterHugs/pseuds/WuvWinchesterHugs
Summary: On Saturday mornings, Dean can usually expect to be greeted by coffee and his sweet husband’s voice. He opens his eyes looking at the clock and sees it's 9 am, turns over to see a still sleeping Sam.





	1. Chapter 1

On Saturday mornings, Dean can usually expect to be greeted by coffee and his sweet husband’s voice. He opens his eyes looking at the clock and sees it's 9 am, turns over to see a still sleeping Sam. Dean sits up, rubbing his eyes and looking back at the clock.

Weird. Sam is almost always up at the butt crack of dawn and Dean almost never wakes up first. Shrugging, he just goes to take care of his morning business and start the coffee himself. When he comes back in the room with a cup of coffee a half hour later, a still sleeping Sam greets him. Sighing, Dean goes over to shake Sam’s shoulder a little.

“Rise and shine sleepyhead!” Dean exclaims, not even remotely quiet about it, and it gives the expected results when Sam’s eyes pop open. But instead of the bitchface Dean's expecting, Sam just looks at Dean with a vacant stare. He even whimpers a little burying deeper in his blankets.

Dean reaches over to feel Sam’s head with the back of his hand, and draws his hand back almost immediately as if he'd been burned. Sam’s skin was way warmer than Sam's usual warmness, which was always a few degrees warmer than the average human being.

Sam looks towards the steaming mug of coffee and sits up quickly, holding his mouth, and bolts out of bed towards the bathroom. He barely makes it to his knees in front of the toilet before beginning to vomit. Dean follows right behind him, barely having time to crouch down behind him and gather up Sam’s hair just in time to keep it out of the mess. Once that's done, Dean starts to rub gentle circles on Sam’s back.

“Just let it out, Sammy. Just try to keep it in the bowl, sweetheart.” Dean tries to think if they have any special kinds of medicine to help with this, and can only hope it doesn’t spread to him. He really hates puking, not that anyone likes it, but that would not be fun, especially to be sick together.

Finally, Sam's done with the first wave of nausea, and Dean grabs a cold towel to put on Sam’s forehead, wipes his mouth with some toilet paper, then flushes it all down as Sam sits propped up against the counter. Dean runs his fingers through Sam’s silky hair, wanting to provide comfort for the both of them.

Sam groans a little, but shuts his eyes, sighing from the loving touch of his husband. They sit for a while longer, and just when Dean thinks Sam is actually falling asleep, his eyes pop open again, and Dean manages to gather his hair again as the second wave of nausea becomes too much for Sam, leading to another round of vomiting.

Again, Dean just cleans it all up when it’s done, and picks him up, carrying him back to bed.

“Alright, champ. You just rest here. Use the wastebasket if you need to. Be right back.” Dean kisses Sam's forehead and puts the cold towel back on before sneaking out, taking his coffee with him.

Dean makes his way to the kitchen to get some Tylenol and water: he'll need to keep Sam hydrated to keep his strength up. Halfway back to Sam's room, he hears the gagging noises and walks in on Sam with his head already in the wastebasket. Dean sets the water and pills down and goes to sit behind Sam. There can't be anything left in his stomach, but Sam can't help but cry from the dry heaves.

Dean kneels next to the bed and takes the basket from Sam gently, and uses a new towel to clean his face. Once his husband's face is clean, Dean opens the bedside drawer and pulls out a hair tie.

“This here's your ticket to clean hair.” He pulls back Sam’s hair and pulls it into a tidy man bun. Obviously Dean's giggling internally, but manages to keep a straight face. He loves his husband, and knows him well enough to know this is not the time for jokes. At least, not yet it isn't.

Sam gives him a small smile and lays back against the pillow, pale face shining, exhausted but relaxed. Sam knows Dean will take care of him, it’s secretly one of his favorite things about Dean. He’s always complained and grumbled about it, but he's tried to never admit out loud how much he’s loved Dean being his caregiver his whole life. It gives him a solid foundation to be strong and himself. Someday, somehow, he’ll think of the perfect way to thank Dean, but for now, he can't do anything but just rest in their bed and let himself be pampered.

Dean goes to get the water and pills, bringing them to Sam.

“Ok, now take your meds and drink for me Sammy. If you toss your cookies again, we'll try again later.” Dean watches Sam with a stern look as Sam rolls his eyes and takes the meds.

Sam manages to drink some water, but not much, not with his stomach on such delicate ground. The water feels so cool on his tongue, he lets out an audible sigh when done. This is definitely gonna be one long weekend for the both of them.


	2. Chapter 2

It only took one more day of vomiting every 2 hours before Dean finally said screw this. The hospital’s the place for Sam right now.

Dean gets Sam dressed and helps him get into the car. Sam’s head hovers over the basket in his lap, moaning and looking pale. The drive isn’t that long, but Sam's stomach doesn't seem to care, because he dry heaves two more times on the way.

“I’m going to find a nurse. Stay put.”

Dean runs into the hospital, panic all over his face.

“My husband is puking his brains out. I need a wheelchair.” 

Not bothering to wait for a response, Dean runs back out the door to open the car door, trusting that someone followed him back out.

Dean opens the car door and helps Sam stand up on shaky legs. Dean holds him steady until a wheelchair appears behind him.

“Sit down gently, sir.”

Moaning, Sam collapses in the chair and is promptly whisked inside.

Dean trails behind but gets stopped by a nurse at their station to fill out forms and answer questions. He does everything impatiently; one word answers are all this nurse is gonna get. 

By the time she’s done, Dean's in full panic mode; he almost runs to the curtained area where he can hear Sam moaning behind it.

He sees Sam shivering and sweating in the way too small hospital gown. A nurse is checking his vitals and gently giving him encouragement and directions. Her head snaps up when Dean barges in.

“You must be Dean. Sam here was getting worried.” She smiles warmly as she goes about her duties.  
“Yeah, yeah. Where’s the doc?” Dean asks as he paces back and forth.

“He’ll be here soon. My name’s Angela.” She makes some notes, then helps Sam sit up enough to puke in the little tray in his lap  
.  
Dean runs his hands through his hair. “He’s been barfing for two days straight. I thought it was just a bug.”

“Have you seen any blood in his vomit?” Angela is looking at what little Sam got up intently.

“No, it's been mostly clear for the last day.” Dean had been looking up online everything he can think of to diagnose Sam without a hospital visit.

“I’ll go get the doctor. Relax, I'm sure he’ll be fine.” Angela touches Dean’s shoulder for a moment and Dean relaxes. Her touch is warm, and makes him feel just slightly better.

Dean goes to Sam and strokes his hair absently as he watches Sam fall into a shallow sleep. 

The day passes slowly for Dean, everything going so agonizingly slow. The doctor came in spouting a bunch of nonsense that Angela had to explain meant Sam needed fluids and rest where they can monitor him. That was progress, but then it took over an hour to get him into a room, but despite how Sam was getting fluids, he wasn’t resting. Different nurses and other personnel came and woke Sam up every half hour, or so it felt. They took his blood and monitored him, gave him medicine through his IV. 

After a couple hours, Dean finally got so angry he had to leave the room. Sam had been sleeping, and when he saw a new person come in to bother Sam, he broke. He stalked out of the room, nearly knocking over an orderly carrying trays of food. He apologized over his shoulder as he headed for a door that lead outside. Shouldering the door open he stalks outside into the open air. He breathes in the cold air and closes his eyes, feels the wind on his face. He jumps when he hears the door slam shut. Deep breathing helped him lose some of the tension, but he's too worried about Sam to focus for too long. 

“Dean, you okay?” Angela is halfway out the door calling to him. He turns to walk towards her.

“Oh, yeah, fine. Just freaking out.” Dean hangs his head heading towards her.

“I understand. You love him and you're worried.” She smiles holding the door open for him.

“I do love him. I need him.” Dean lets the first tears fall. Strong soft hands guide him to a chair, and he slumps in it.

“He’ll be ok Dean. He just needs you to be strong for him right now.” Angela crouches in front of Dean, holding his hands in hers.

“I’m always strong for him.” Dean looks at her, trying to smile. More tears fall and his shoulders start to shake.

“My son Tom has always been sick the whole 7 years he's been alive, so I understand. I have been strong for so long, I often forget to take care of myself. I collapsed once and while I recovered a wise nurse told me if I don’t take care of myself, I can’t take care of my son.” Angela lets a tear fall and wipes it quickly away.

“I can’t. I have no idea how to do it.” Dean feels close to a breaking point.

“I know. Being strong doesn’t always mean not showing weakness. In your case, your strength is your love for him. Show him. Let him in.” Angela hugs Dean tightly, letting him cry on her for a while.

“I never thought of that. I keep my game face on.” Dean feels a light bulb go off in his head as the idea grows. Sam needs all of him, not just part of him.

“He needs you. Now go show him how much.” Angela helps him up and walks him back into the room. She pats him on the back and heads back to the nurse’s station.

Dean walks in and sees Sam’s worried eyes.

“Just had to take a breather.” Dean sits next to Sam and takes his hand. Kissing it, he holds it up to his forehead and shivers.

“Dean?” Sam whispers, throat sore. Dean isn’t acting like himself.

“I love you. I always have. I need you.” Dean lets some tears fall and grips Sam’s hand harder.

“I love you Dean.” Sam sighs. This is what he’d been waiting for. Dean never lets things out, and now that he is, it’s a relief. Sam feels a warmth building in his gut. This man he's loves his whole life has been his rock, but doesn’t often let him in. Now, by some miracle, Sam can now see what Dean’s hiding. It's so amazing that Sam lets a few tears fall as well.

It takes a while for them both to let it all out. They are connected by this sharing of tears. More than they've ever been, even in bed. Sam feels a warm glow around him, and his stomach starts feeling much better. He pulls Dean up and kisses him, gently but firmly. They hear a clearing of the throat and pull apart with blushing cheeks.

“Hey Angela, sorry.” Dean gives her the full smile and sees her eyes light up in return.

“Just checking in on Sam. How are you?” Angela comes closer checking his vitals.

“Pretty good, actually.” Sam smiles, knowing she must be the one who got to Dean, and he's grateful. He squeezes her hand and winks. She giggles and winks back. 

“Good. I think the fluids are helping. I'll let the doctor know. You'll probably get out tomorrow. You two just gotta relax. Dinner’s coming soon.” Angela walks out closing the door.

“Feeling better?” Dean’s excited; maybe this won’t be as bad as he feared.

“You’re better than any medicine on the market.” Sam pulls Dean in and they share another warm kiss. Parting with regret, Dean sits down, taking Sam’s hand again.

“You just get your beauty rest, alright?” Dean watches over him as Sam slips into sleep, thenl he himself falls asleep, until a knock wakes him up, a heavenly smell hits his nose.

“Cheeseburger?” Dean gets up as two dinner trays are set down next to Sam.

“Yessir. Angela thought you needed some food too.” The orderly grins as he heads out. 

Dean sets Sam’s food tray over the bed and then puts his own on his lap. Sam's still sleeping, so Dean digs in. It wasn’t the best burger he's ever had by a long shot, but his empty stomach was in heaven. He hadn’t eaten all day, and this was the best meal he could've asked for. When he finishes, he lets out a belch and pats his stomach, sitting back. He’s still hungry and opens Sam’s tray, but all he has is a jello cup and soup. He lets it sit as he waits for Sam to wake up. 

Angela came to hug them both when her shift ended. She was glad to see Sam was headed home and her heart felt lighter knowing she had given them both a gift they needed.

The next day they’re finally heading home to the bunker. Sam’s much better now and keeping liquids down without them making a second appearance. Dean had pushed for Sam to be released quickly; he knew their home was the best place to take care of Sam. 

Sam is lying in bed with that dreamy smile on his face that makes Dean melt. No beeping monitors and bustling nurses, no crying children or sounds of commotion. Dean knows that this is where Sam wanted to be all along. He’s glad to be out of a place full of so many bad memories. Dean doesn’t know how to keep up this sharing and caring thing. He’s already so exhausted from both worry and emotional distress. He doesn’t want to hover over Sam, but he knows that he’d never forgive himself if he slacked off on his job and Sam got worse because of it.

Sam sees all the thoughts pass through Deans mind and he chuckles softly, which catches Dean’s attention.

“What?” Dean’s head snaps up, not realizing he'd been so lost in thought.

“I saw all those thoughts pass over your face. I love to watch you Dean. It's like my own silent movie.” Sam is so peaceful.

“Ha ha, very funny. I have trouble outthinking you sometimes.” Dean loves any kind of happiness for Sam, and soaks up the love he feels pouring out of Dean.

“Your only problem is thinking too much Dean. Just relax. Not like I'm dying.” Sam loves being doted on by Dean so much, but sometimes he needs a breather too.

“You’re right. Hospitals just make me tense. You just get some rest, Sammy. I’ll just be in the next room.” Dean gives Sam’s forehead a kiss and squeezes his hand before slipping back out.

Sam watches him go and closes his eyes. Hospitals are not fun for anyone. Being home just reminds Sam how much he loves this place and his brother. Dean will always have his back and always be willing to help him. That’s something you don’t find very often in this world. They’ve survived so much time and time again without flinching, but sometimes the mundane day to day stuff is the worst. There's not a bigger agenda or a lofty goal, it’s just the grind of living that can be the biggest battle.

Dean doesn’t know what to do with himself now that they’re back home and Sam's safe and sound. He doesn’t want to hover, but he still wants to be near Sam. So he settles for quietly pulling up a chair just outside Sam’s room. He can hear the soft snoring from inside and smiles as he listens to the little noises from Sam sleeping. The sound of Sam sleeping is music to Dean's ears; in fact, he can’t help but follow him down into sleep.

 

Next morning, Sam wakes refreshed and more like himself than he’s felt in days. He decides to go get cleaned up and make breakfast for Dean. When he opens the door he sees Dean slumped in the chair, snoring away. Sam pulls out his phone and snaps a quick picture, because it's both cute and perfect blackmail for later. He slips off to get himself ready for the day and once he has coffee, bacon and eggs, he goes to wake up his sweet husband.

“What? What!?” Dean swats at Sam’s hand as he wakes up, bolting upright in the chair.

“Easy tiger. It’s just me. Breakfast is already in the kitchen.” Sam kisses Dean softly, but with promises for later.

“Is that bacon I smell?” Dean takes off quickly once he smells his favorite thing. Well, his favorite thing that he can eat right now. His stomach dictates most of his actions and this one's saying EAT NOW!

Sam chuckles and shakes his head trailing after the love of his life. He walks in on Dean with 4 pieces of bacon already hanging out of his mouth, and another handful ready to follow. He looks up at Sam and pulls the plate of bacon towards himself like he's guarding it. He hunches over and growls. Sam laughs. It feels so good to be back in their home, back to their normal.

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus chapters are coming, but this can be read as a standalone fic, or in addition to the upcoming ones.


End file.
